The Fall of a Genius - SherlockJohn Fanfiction
by WonderLocked
Summary: The fanfiction takes place in the Reichenbach Falls episode and it's from Sherlock's point of view. It revolves around how Sherlock feels for John during what was thought to be his final moments.


I can clearly remember the look on John's face as I observed him from above. Everyone else below looked like blurry pinpricks, but his distraught face attacks my vision every time I close my eyes. ''Sherlock, please don't do it,'' he begged down the phone. His eyed squeezed out tears of hurt and all I could do was look on, knowing that piece by piece I was destroying him. ''John, keep your eyes on me, whatever you do, just keep looking at me,'' I said with my voice wobbling. Tears spilled out of my eyes too at that moment and they gushed down my face like a miniature waterfall. I was supposed to be unable to feel, unable to care, but John made me feel different. He made me feel strange. He stood as still as a statue on the pavement below, keeping his soldier-like stature which almost defines him. Almost.

I couldn't wait any longer. I had to do it otherwise I was going to back down, run down to where John was now barely standing and grab him into a tight embrace and never let go. I stepped up onto the edge and concentrated on John's piercing blue eyes and drew in a breath. Unsurprisingly, I didn't feel scared. Not one bit. I could still here John pointlessly pleading to me, however I was choosing to ignore him. It was hard. Quickly, I text Mycroft with my nimble fingers, 'Lazarus is go.' It was finally time. There was no point in any more delays. It would only make it harder for me. Harder for John.

Dropping my phone, I lifted my arms up like a bird extending its wings, to hopefully break the fall. Whatever way it was going to hurt, and not just physically. Once more, I looked into John's piercing blue eyes. At that point they were shimmering with continuous flows of tears. Gently, I leant forward, let gravity carry me downwards and air resistance pointlessly attempt to stop me. I let my arms flail and my coat effortlessly flutter until I fell into the spongy, large, blue gym mat lying below. At the same time, the plan was being put into action. In just a few seconds, an actor I hired on a bike will knock John over and the switch will be made between me and the look-alike corpse that was placed there to look like I actually fell. I quickly put the ball I was given by one of the actors under my arm to stop my pulse. John, being an army doctor, was clearly going to check for a pulse.

It was awful seeing John pointlessly pushing his way through the growing crowd. It was impossible for me to be alive. For me or anyone who wasn't a genius to survive that kind of fall. His eyes were still brimming with tears, his voice full of hurt and despair. 'Let me through, he's my friend.' Sorrow once again rushed through me and I had to control myself. 'What would Mycroft say?' I sternly thought to myself. He reached down and grabbed my wrist and I felt his warm, sweaty fingers run along my veins. He pressed his fingers onto my wrist whilst at the same time sobbing uncontrollably. I never knew I could mean that much to someone, especially someone as wonderful as John. Naturally, my pulse wasn't present. John smelt like he always did. Like shaving foam and sawdust. His smell filled my nostrils and I struggled to hold back the tears I could feel pushing their way out of my defensive eyelids. Luckily I was lifted onto a portable bed and wheeled away into the hospital before I gave up and ruined the flawless plan.

John stood at the pavement, staring at what he thought was my pool of blood. I could see him out of the corner of my peripheral vision break down and sob. He fell to his knees on the hard, wet pavement and wailed like a fox looking at the lifeless corpse of its dead mother. Expect, he wasn't a fox and I wasn't his mother, however to his knowledge I was dead and that near enough makes the metaphor of wailing correct. To him, I was now a lifeless corpse being wheeled to the white-washed morgue. A lifeless corpse that will eventually be laid in a graveyard, confined in a box under a 6 foot mound of earth. I knew I was shattering him and there was nothing I could do.

If only I could have told him I wasn't really dead. If only he knew I was doing it to protect him.


End file.
